


A Moment Longer

by xxSoliusxx



Series: A Guide to Solius's 035 & 049 Canon! [6]
Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fuck the 939s all my homies hate the 939s, If carefully preening your partners feathers is considered romantic?, M/M, Oddly Domestic, Oneshot, Romantic Fluff, all fluff, thats it, they cuddle and look at maps, which is weird because its the foundation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSoliusxx/pseuds/xxSoliusxx
Summary: The mask and the doctor quietly discuss their means of escape in an undisturbed corner of the foundation.
Relationships: SCP-035/SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)
Series: A Guide to Solius's 035 & 049 Canon! [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769230
Comments: 13
Kudos: 116





	A Moment Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I'm jumping around the timeline sooner than i thought  
> This was originally just fluff I jotted down off the top of my head out of boredom but  
> then I was able to fit it in with the overarching plot of the series so here! Small fluffy filler for yall

Fingers gently combed through the long feathers sprouting from the crown of the doctor’s head. His hood hung around his shoulders. He let out a soft sigh, muffled by the hollow chitin mask protruding from his features. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the chest of the person seated behind him, sinking deeper into their lap and soaking up the warm heat of their body. The two entities were comfortably entangled together, lounging in the pillows of the doctor’s cot pushed into the furthest corner of 049’s containment cell. 

The mask’s oozing fingers left rivulets of black liquid trailing along the soft vanes of his feathers like oil and water. 

With the mask’s torso pressed against the doctor’s back and 035’s legs loosely enveloping his, a sense of comfort washed over the doctor at the familiar warm touch that closed him in from all sides.

“Damn, I haven’t seen you this calm in ages. Do you like this or something?” The mask teased softly, his fingers gingerly working to untangle bruised shafts from the layer of thinner fluff buried beneath the thicker outer protective layer of the course black feathers. 

“Mmm,” 049 offered little else than a soft hum. A pleasantly warm shiver of satisfaction suddenly rushed through his body and he impulsively fidgeted as the mask plucked free a series of old dead feather shafts that had been pestering him for months since he wasn’t able to reach them himself. The mask idly tossed the dead feathers away off the bed, soft black fluff drifting to the cold grey floor of the containment cell.

Blinking, the doctor cracked open an eye and leisurely drew his knees up, heels digging into the bed sheets. He propped up his journal against his thighs, flipping open the hard cover and leafing through a few odd pages. Squinting, he tilted his head forwards to peer closer at the words scratched into the weathered parchment. 

He paused, flipping open to a random page in his journal, evidently one from centuries ago judging by aged paper’s thickness and spiderweb cracks disintegrating the barely distinguishable beginners sketches scrawled there. His eyes casually roamed across the open pages, letting old memories surface from the furthest depths of his mind as they’d been called forth by the old letters inscribed onto the worn parchment.

049 gingerly ran a clawed thumb across the page, the tip of his glove tracing the foreign scratch of letters forming a wayward note hastily scribbled in the topmost corner of the page. A shred of light amusement touched the doctor as he noticed the familiar messy hearts signing off the old note. 

“Oh hey–I wrote that! God, that’s from aaaaaages ago. You’ve actually kept your notes from the first plague?” The mask’s hands paused their work amongst the doctor’s feathers as he leaned forward in interest, intently peering over the doctor’s shoulder at the worn pages of the journal. 

The doctor vaguely nodded, completely lost in the swirling misty memories rising through his mind as he gazed intently at the mask’s words scrawled across the paper from more than several hundred years ago. 035’s fingers resumed combing through the doctor’s thick crown of black feathers. He leaned back, a chuckle resonating from his chest.

“I can’t imagine those useless scribbles are of any use to you anymore. Odd. I never thought you were sentimental–” the mask paused before continuing with a wince. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this but–” he mimicked a pained whine as he begrudgingly admitted the insignificant mistake. “–looks like I was wrong.” 

“Impossible,” 049 replied drily, ignoring his tonal antics and leafing through the next couple weathered pages. The mask’s fingers tightened amongst his feathers as his act of dramaticized agony instantly shifted to bursting excitement. 

“Woah–shit, doc! You? Sarcasm? I haven’t heard that in years!” The mask’s warbling tone bubbled with delight as a faint exasperated sigh escaped the doctor. He settled back against the mask’s chest, a tinge of warmth creeping up his neck. 

“We should move onto important matters,” he flatly ignored the sensation of the mask’s delighted chuckling heaving against his body. The mask’s fingers roughly worked along a few of the doctor’s larger feathers, smoothing out imperfections. 

“Yeah yeah–I’ll help you out, love. Do you have the maps?”

“Have you taken out both the audio and video feed, this time?” 049 interjected sharply, promptly stiffening in agitation. He cast a narrow glance toward the upper wall corners of his containment cell. A few remnants of the mask’s oozing black tendrils still idly flicked about the ceiling, curling around the corroded remnants of the shattered security cameras. 

“C’mon dear, that was one time,” the mask whined indignantly, continuing to work his fingers along the shafts of the doctor’s soft feathers. 

“Yes and in case you forgot the consequences of your little ‘slip up’ with the audio, the foundation now has a troublesome habit of prying into our old histories,” 049 replied tersely, the tip of his clawed thumb digging into the page of his journal in agitation. The mask briefly waved a loose hand. 

“Yeah yeah it’s all taken care of, doc. No need to...ah...ruffle your feathers...I made sure to cut all the wires in the walls down here in your basement.” 

The doctor breathed a heavy exhale, a wave of relief flowing over his shoulders. He relaxed, muscles loosening as he calmly sunk into the mask’s comfortable embrace once more. 

“Good,” he muttered shortly, settling against the mask’s warm chest. 

“Ooh, you do trust me!” 035 drawled. One hand slipped out of the doctor’s feathers and moved downward to give the front of 049’s thick robes a pat. “Got worried for a sec there, love.”

049 replied with stony silence and took to resuming the act of carefully leafing through the worn crumbling pages of his old leather journal. 

\-------

Earlier that day–or night, (the doctor couldn’t exactly discern the time), 049 had picked up the faint sound of containment breach alarms wailing throughout the halls upstairs from his basement. This wasn’t a terribly uncommon occurrence, so the doctor was prompted to ignore the intrusion, blocking out the faint wailing as he continued to lean over his operating desk, intently picking apart several dismembered parts of the dead bovine the Foundation doctor’s had provided him with. 

After the passing of several uninterrupted minutes, the dull thrum of a faint malicious whispering reached his ears. He automatically glanced upward at the grey-washed ceiling only to witness a mess of black secretions pool from the very seams of his containment chamber. As the rivers of ooze streamed down the harsh gray walls, the substance twisted into vague tendril-like shapes, curling around the blinking red lights of the CCTV cameras mounted in the corners of his cell. 049 promptly swiveled around in his chair and expectantly faced the steel door of his cell. 

Not a moment later, the magnetically sealed door was wrenched off its track by several acid-dripping tendrils. The doctor had raised a figurative eyebrow as the damaged, pummeled metal of the door was carelessly tossed to the floor of his containment cell with a noisily clatter, the large black tendrils disappearing into the floor.

His gaze snapped up just in time to witness the mask stepping over the threshold of his containment chamber, promptly inviting himself in. He was wearing one of those D-Class personnel clad in an obnoxiously bright orange jumpsuit. The doctor then noticed the limp body of a white-coated scientist carelessly slung over his shoulder. 

“Hello, darling!” The mask had chirped brightly upon noticing that the doctor had risen to stand beside his desk and was narrowly observing his unprompted breach visitor through cool yellow eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” The doctor began, a chilly but polite edge to his tone as he eyed the mask dripping secretions all over his chamber floor. 

“I don’t know? The breach maybe?” The mask squinted, promptly adjusting to the doctor’s unexpectedly cool tone. The doctor tilted his beak, his initial guard dropping. 

“It’s been a considerable few months since we’ve crossed paths,” he noted, shoulders dropping as he moved to lightly lean against the edge of his desk. He eyed the white lump slung over the mask’s shoulder with a mildly curious light. “Who have you brought with you?”

“Not who, dearest, but what! This is a gift, from yours truly. I know you don’t get many people to experiment on anymore,” the mask shrugged the body off his shoulder, roughly dumping the dead scientist on the cold grey floor of the containment cell. “Ooh that guy was heavy,” he winced, straightening up and shaking out his arm, a cascade of black droplets splattering on the tiled floor. Then he hastily stole a few wobbly steps backwards, away from the cadaver at his feet and swept his hand in before him in a mock bow, effectively presenting the corpse to the doctor. 

“For you, my love.”

“This is a peace offering, isn’t it?”

The mask’s head snapped up in surprise at the doctor’s words. Then he sighed, straightening up and waving a dismissive hand. 

“Well, in my opinion ‘gift’ is a much more romantic way of putting it.” 

049 stepped away from his desk and calmly folded his hands behind his back, stepping forwards before pausing and peering down at the fresh corpse with keen interest. He studied the body for a moment with a tilt of his beak, momentarily deciding his next course of action. 

There was no point in Curing the dead scientist. The doctor wouldn’t have enough time to collect all the data needed from that particular experiment before armed Foundation personnel would come marching in and terminate the project. 

However, fresh anatomically human organs for studies would certainly be helpful.

049 promptly straightened up, blinking in acknowledgement as he regarded the mask with a newfound air of warm politeness. 

“Thank you.”

“Are you gonna start uh–god–what's the word…give me a minute...” the mask broke off in thought, furiously tapping his chin. The doctor patiently waited for him to continue. After several seconds of intense silence 035 suddenly snapped his fingers. “Ah–! Got it! –Eviscerating it right this second? Or can I, have you, for the rest of this breach before Nine-Tail comes in, guns blazing?” 

The mask mimicked finger guns, black sludge dripping from his fingertips. 

The doctor stared at him for a moment. Then he dipped his head.

“All I need is to harvest a few organs and blood samples for preservation. Then we can discuss whatever you like.” 

The mask grinned, delightedly rubbing his hands together as he rocked back and forth on his heels, intently watching the doctor turn around and reach for the instruments in his black bag resting on his work desk. Black ooze splattered across the cold floor beneath 035’s shoes. 

“Perfect! This is the first time we’ve seen each other in several months, my dear, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do!”

\--------

The mask’s fingers unexpectedly found a tangled knot of broken shafts and vanes sticking together. He promptly gave a hard tug, hoping to dislodge the mess. 049 winced, hands jerking in surprise at the sudden stinging pain rising from his scalp.

“Ow,” he hissed sharply, ducking his head. 

“Sorry,” the mask muttered sheepishly. 

“Be more careful,” 049 snapped, leafing through the most recent pages of his journal. 

“I said sorry! Jeez.”

The doctor paused, flattening out his journal as he displayed the fresh white pages he’d been searching for. 

035 paused his furious work in untangling the knot in order to peer intently over the doctor’s shoulder, squinting at the papers. 

“Wow, those are very nice. They look very accurate. Your illustrations are as lovely and flawless as ever, dear,” he chirped in adoration.

“You’re quite the smooth talker. Do you flatter everyone like this?”

“Of course! But I’m only genuine with you.”

Scrawled across the pages in standard pen ink were neatly illustrated maps of several site’s floorplans drawn out in impressively in-depth detail. The doctor had outlined doors and marked the key hallways connecting certain floors and rooms together effectively forming a coherent map of the labyrinth-esque layout of the building. 

The doctor had drawn these up many months ago. He was fairly certain almost a year had passed since he’d outlined these maps. 

\---------

049 had been participating in a site-wide containment breach that occurred approximately ten months prior. He’d always preferred to know his surroundings, especially now in this complex maze of a facility. While the power had been knocked out and the electrical locks on his containment door sprung open, he collected his pen and his leather bound journal from his bag before crossing the threshold to temporary freedom, stepping into the darkness of the basement where his containment cell lay. 

After successfully restoring the power generator in the basement, he travelled up to the higher floors of the facility, stepping out of the elevator and glancing down at the book in his hands. He put the pen to paper and began the first rough outlines of the future map scrawled across his journal pages. 

While the site personnel scrambled about attempting to re-contain several Keter class objects running rampant in other sections of the facility, the doctor took to observationally strolling the halls, pen and paper in hand as he sketched out the various hallways and rooms all intersecting and branching into each other. 

At one point, one of those aforementioned Keter class objects running around the site ran straight smack into the doctor. 035 had rounded the nearest corner in a rapidly decaying host and blindly stumbled straight into 049, almost knocking him down in the process. After both entities regained their balance, the two exchanged a few brisk words before the doctor continued on down the dark hallway, inking lines into his paper and now in company with his old friend strolling leisurely beside him. 

The two had ambled about the site, the mask making idle chatter as the doctor continued to extend and polish up the floorplans he’d sketched out with a keen eye and an excellent sense of direction. Both continued their pleasant leisurely stroll along the dim corridors for the remainder of time left of this breach. Alas, eventually they had the inevitable luck of crossing paths with a squadron of facility guards. 

There, they parted ways and were promptly returned to their respective containment cells across site. Several grievencing interrogations had commenced afterwards, the doctor greatly displeased at the intensive questioning. Luckily, the Foundation personnel responsible couldn’t comprehend the maps illustrated onto the pages and the brilliantly drawn floorplans were left known only to the doctor and the mask.

Between that breach ten months ago and now, present day with both entities lounging in the corner of 049’s cell, the pair had crossed paths only once, meeting up during a breach five months prior. That had entailed a hasty fleeting discussion about their upcoming plans for the future together, including the first stages of a plan to escape the facility. 

\---------

The doctor’s clawed fingers curled around empty air. Surprised, he glanced down and vigorously patted the various folds of the bedsheets for a moment before his fingers finally closed around the pen.

He tapped the journal paper with the tip of the writing utensil, indicating towards a large box branching off of the main corridor on the map. 

“Do you know what’s in here?” 

“Yep! That looks like 1048’s containment and the one next to it is 2295. Some weird teddy bears. 1048’s made of ears.” 

As 049 jotted down the numbers, the mask finished preening his feathers, neatly aligning the jet black feathers into their proper places before combing his hand through the soft vanes one last time in satisfaction.

Then he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around 049’s shoulders, his hands sliding down to rest on the thick robes layering the doctor’s chest. The edge of his chin gently settled on the doctor’s shoulder, the black liquid dribbling from his porcelain orifices bleeding into his partner’s robes.

While the doctor had drawn up the layouts of the floors, the mask was well versed in the contents and residents of the site. He got out and around much more frequently than the doctor. Just one of them wouldn't be able to fill the page but both of their minds together would be enough to complete a fully labeled map of the site’s layout in acute detail. 

049 paused, tipping his head back, the side of his beak gently bumping the mask’s stained cheek. 

“How do you know all this, exactly?” He asked softly. The mask’s arms around him gave an affectionate squeeze. 

“Those scientists. The one level four I nabbed a while back had all sorts of secret info tucked away in his head,” he explained smugly. 

“It seems the ‘doctors’ here do have practicality after all,” 049 mused. Then he blinked, raising his head from the mask’s collarbone and leisurely refocused on the task at hand. The warmth of the mask's embrace was certainly distracting. 

With the tip of his pen he tapped the paper, indicating at one faraway hallway equipped with two tesla gates and a three way intersection beyond. Two of the paths had staircases that descended into lower floors. 

“I can only assume they’re keeping more unstable objects here,” the doctor observed. 

“Yeah the 939’s are kept down the left way–those red dog things. Let me tell you–they make awful neighbors. All they do is scream dying words of agony and plead for their life. At first it was really funny–” 049 glanced down to observe the mask’s fingers curling into fists in the front of his robes. “–but after a while it got real fucking annoying. It’s constant blabbering noise and they never, shut, the fuck–”

“Thank you for the added details,” 049 interrupted curtly, cutting off the mask’s beginnings of a tirade before he had a chance to escalate. The doctor could acutely feel the mask bristling with rage against him as he muttered a muffled inaudible string of foreign curses. After a small pause, 035 deflated with a huff, his chin settling heavily onto the doctor’s shoulder as he cooled off, his fingers falling limp against the doctor’s thick robes once more. 

“The dogs don’t deserve a label. Forget those god forsaken things.” 

049 drily scribbled a note of the mask’s hatred on his 939 label. Satisfied, the mask moved on. 

“Alright. So, 012 is down that staircase the other way and straight ahead–” the mask paused, raising his chin. He leaned forwards over the doctor and reached out with his hand, lightly tapping the third hallway with the tip of his finger. His touch left a tiny black smudge upon the paper. “–is me.”

The doctor neatly labeled the hallways at 035’s direction.

The two continued to work together in this fashion, lounging against the pillows on 049’s cot in the corner of his cold containment cell, comfortably pressed together and warmly basking in each other’s presence. 049 lost track of time with ease as the two of them continued to make soft chatter while they filled in the blank spaces of 049’s illustrations.

How much time had passed since the breach had begun? The doctor wasn’t certain, he’d been too preoccupied with the mask. 

Certainly MTF would arrive on site at some point. After all, according to 035, this particular breach had been quite a devastating one. Him and several other sentient Keters had seized the opportunity to breach during the Foundation’s slip up in procedure with handling an experiment involving that corrosive old man in an army vest. 106 was involuntarily set loose and began melting his way into various containment cells. 

The initial containment breach alarms had long since faded into silence. The doctor lost track of time and found himself surprisingly indifferent on that matter. He was too enamored with the pleasure of the mask’s company to pay much care. 035 was very warm and the doctor was very comfortably curled up in his embrace. The heat radiating from the mask’s body washed over him, lulling him into a dazed state of bliss.

Minutes turned into hours flying by as the two gradually filled in several pages worth of maps with labels of various other anomalous objects, armory locations, Gates and offices. Under the doctor’s tired eyes, the sheer quantity of numbered labels seemed to blur together in one big smudge of ink and paper. 

\---

Long after they had fully completed the maps with intricate details, the two hadn’t moved much and were still faithfully cuddled up together in the corner of the cell. 049’s closed journal and pen rested on the sheets beside them, accompanied by several feathery specks of black fluff. 

The mask’s arms were now loosely wrapped around the doctor’s waist, his fingers idly tracing the smooth leather belt ingrained into the layers of 049’s robes. The doctor duly noted that 035 was beginning to show signs of more advanced decay as his corrosive acid had gnawed away several chunks of flesh from his forearms, exposing the host’s inner workings.

049 had tipped his head back, his preened feathers now brushing up against the mask’s collarbone while the back of his shoulders scraped against coarse fabric of 035’s prison jumpsuit. His right hand gently rested on the mask’s knee while the other clawed set of fingers reached up to affectionately stroke the cold surface of the mask’s porcelain cheek. 

The two were engaged in quiet chatter, the doctor occasionally lifting his hand from the mask’s knee to vaguely wave about the room as he spoke. They were softly discussing the terms of their future escape.

After almost two years had passed since he’d first crossed paths with the mask in this facility, the doctor had finally decided (after much persuasion on 035’s part) that he would accompany his old partner in leaving this cold grey place. The two would likely return to the doctor’s worn cottage which belonged to an old high village nestled in the mountains of northern France and lie there until the foundation had given up it’s initial search for the two. 

Then…

...Well, the doctor wasn’t certain what would be in store for them next. 

Details pertaining to events after their escape weren’t the most pressing matter at the moment. Before discussing life beyond the Foundation or anything else, the two had to put together a successful plan to escape the confines of these metal walls. 

The pair were discussing that first step at this very moment. However, the more they chatted, making idle discourse as they disagreed on which paths to take, the more the doctor became acutely aware of the mask’s particular situation. 

Two years had passed since the mask’s transfer to this particular site. In the past, he had had an unfortunate habit of wreaking havoc at other sites, corroding the cells he was assigned to and breaking out of containment more often than not. In turn to his erratic behavior, he was then transferred around sites like a game of hot potato. 

However, ever since he’d landed in this particular site and found the doctor just across the building several floors down, he’d become unusually compliant with Foundation authority despite the startling magnitude of his growing powers and blatant ability to walk out of containment when any slight opportunity presented itself. 

The realization quickly dawned on the doctor: the mask could have easily broken free of this entire site anytime he wished. He should have been long gone years ago, leaving the Foundation in the dust far behind him. But instead, the mask had remained in the confines of the facility and patiently waited until he was certain the doctor would follow him out to freedom. 

Along with that thought came great, unexpected comfort. 

The doctor sighed; a muffled hollow sound that echoed around the confines of his chitinous mask. Their discussion had met a natural end. An end of which, held the finer details of instruction for their planned near-future escape together. 

The two had decided that unleashing the indestructible lizard would prove a big enough distraction for them of them to slip away from foundation premises. With 682 on the loose, they’d get several days headstart against the Foundation who would be too preoccupied with grappling to recontain their most difficult object before noticing the missing entities. Teams wouldn't be sent out to hunt down the mask and the doctor until at least a week later. 

But neither the doctor or the mask would be able to get anywhere near any sort of high clearance level controls for the lizard's containment–they’d need to enlist the help of a particular AI who would have incentive to assist their escape by willingly releasing 682. 

049’s eyes fluttered shut as a warm silence enveloped the two entities on the cot. One hand rested in his lap while the other idly traced the mask’s knee. Despite the back of his head gently resting against the mask’s chest, he could pick up no semblance of a heartbeat. 

He felt the mask shift around him, leaning down and pushing his nose into the leathery crook of the doctor’s neck in an affectionate nuzzle. 

“I’d better run along soon. If the foundation finds us like this, I know I’ll never hear the end of it from you,” he mused in a low voice, black liquid soaking down into the fabric of the doctor’s hood. 049 cracked open a yellow eyelid. The mask firmly nudged the crook of his neck as one last gesture of affection before he raised his head. He shifted, his oozing palms that had been affectionately wrapped around the doctor’s waist beginning to loosen. 

But before he had the chance to pull away and withdraw his arms, 049’s clawed fingers quickly clamped down on the mask’s blackened hands still hovering around his waist. 035 gave a small start of surprise at the action. 

“Oh?”

“It isn’t often that I get to see you,” the doctor murmured quietly, eyes fluttering open. He wasn’t certain what had befallen him since the mask was right–he most certainly didn’t want the foundation finding them together and proceeding to yet another series of intensive interrogations. Keeping the mask around for longer was against the doctor’s better judgement. 

Yet...even so...the touch of the mask’s body enveloping him sent such warm shivers up his spine and their quiet, private chats often stirred up an old blossom of pleasing happiness from the depths of his chest. And it had been five long months since they’d last crossed paths. 

The mask tilted his head, glancing down at the doctor. 

“Are you asking me to stay?”

049’s response was silence. Reading his wordless intent, the mask chuckled, warbling vibrations from his chest transferring to the doctor. 

“Never imagine I’d hear you say that, that’s always been my line,” the mask mused lightly, his porcelain chin settling back down on the doctor’s robed shoulder. 

049’s gaze shifted downwards, the tips of his gloved claws stained black as he gently stroked the outlines of the mask’s decaying hands. His fingers traced over the exposed muscles...bones, tendons, joints…

“Just for a little longer,” he muttered quietly, pausing as he softly tilted his head and affectionately glanced his cold, masked cheek off the mask’s. 

035 illicited a happy hum in return and the doctor relished in the warm shockwaves it sent through his body as the mask spoke. 

“Of course, my love.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any errors. This bitch took me 3 straight hours of revising i have been staring at my screen for those 3 hours and i feel like my head is filled with static and i am going to fall asleep


End file.
